


Things you said when I was crying

by CriticalCXGShipped



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: F/M, orthorexia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-16 17:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14169765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CriticalCXGShipped/pseuds/CriticalCXGShipped
Summary: Things you’d said when I was crying. This occurs a week after Rebecca first dumps Nathaniel. How does Nathaniel respond?





	1. Chapter 1

Nathaniel pounded through the last 2 miles on the treadmill, upping the speed to 8 mph and the elevation to 4. He had to get those extra pounds off, Rebecca had ended things and now he could work off all that fondue and those pizzas. Carbs were the enemy, he knew that, so why had he fallen into bad habits so quickly?  
First he had let her order something different to eat while he ate the salmon salad he had prepared for them, then another date she had ordered a desert for them to ‘share’ and he couldn’t let her eat it all, that would be unhealthy for Rebecca.

All the bliss of the slices of pizza eaten and chocolate sundaes devoured blurred with the feeling of her body against his in his bed. The soft and beautiful flesh of her, the embodiment of decadence became tied up with the calorific food and he had eaten without hating himself for it. It was the first time he could remember eating like that since college. Now he was filled with shame and self loathing.

He had already done his weight routine and swum laps and his body ached with tiredness, but he pushed through the last yards until he stumbled off the treadmill, hydrating with his detoxing drink. Sweat soaked his shirt and socks.

Later, at work, his pants felt a little looser and his shirt collar was almost back to normal. 3 weeks of indulgence and pleasure, 1 week of starvation and purging through exercise and he would be back, ice cold, in control. So why did he feel so miserable? Getting up at 5 to fit in a 2 hour workout is all it is, he told himself.

‘Bear claw, buddy?’ Asked Darryl, his moustache covered in flaky pastry, his voice muffled. ‘I noticed you liked those ones last time’.  
The box of donuts were open in the break room. Nathaniel felt his stomach growl and a rage flare up inside him. ‘How had he weakened so much to voluntarily eat a bear claw? To indulge a little with a lady at his apartment was one thing, but to casually wash down a 400 calorie pastry at work between clients was disgusting.

‘Those things raise your blood sugar so much you would need to run for an hour to burn it off you know Darryl’ Nathaniel said snidely. Darryl froze guiltily, the flakes falling all over the front of his shirt.

Nathaniel strode away from the break room, he didn’t need food today, he was on a fast, he would drink only his detox drinks and stay away from everyone. No coffee even, he was strong, he didn’t need coffee.

The day dragged on about the Weischler case, a dispute between two local business and the ambiguity between the boundaries of their properties. One wanted to extend their alfresco area and garden and the other premise argued that they were over their boundary ( spoiler alert, they were).  
Maya tried to talk him about furries and how he would be free to enjoy them now. He didn’t understand what she was saying but he was so tired and hungry he agreed with her.

Around 5, deflated and exhausted he drove home, past Rebecca’s house to see if she was home. The light was on. He could think of several things he left at her place and spontaneously pulled in outside.

He knocked on the door, Heather opened it.  
‘Hi, uuuum, Rebecca’s…. indisposed right now’ she said slowly, with an unreadable expression.  
‘Look, if Rebecca’s trying to avoid me, it’s nothing, I just came for my ascot, I left it here a few weeks ago and I, ahh, just remembered it’ he said smoothly, putting his hand lightly on the door.  
‘No, you don’t get to push your way in here, I said she was indisposed and you are to take my word for it’. Heather put her tattooe d arm on her hip and straightened up. Her chin lifted and tilted to one side, daring him to try again.

‘Hey, that’s fine, I’m going, I don’t need the ascot, I’ll just buy another’ he backed out on to the porch and stumbled slightly on one of Rebecca’s decorative stones.

Startled, he realised how dizzy from hunger he was, then the exhaustion of little sleep and punishing exercise hit him again and he felt tears spring up in his eyes, tears of frustration and hurt and embarrassment.  
He pulled off his suit jacket, flung it over his arm and wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his expensive shirt sleeve. He wobbled dejectedly back to the car.  
Just as he was leaving the porch though, the door swung open again.  
‘Nathaniel!’ Rebecca padded out in a robe, her hair was wet and she had clearly been in the tub, there were bubbles on her neck and her eye make up was slightly streaked.  
‘Hey, Rebecca!?’ Turning to have her he tried to sound jovial but he found it hard to muster up the enthusiasm.  
‘Oh my God, Nathaniel have you been crying?!’ She sounded concerned but also slightly touched and proud.

Again, the tears burst from his eyes, unbidden, he let out a sob. He was being touched by Rebecca, her fingers were cool and damp on his bare wrist and then another sob escaped him, he sniffed loudly.

‘No’ he said stupidly, his face crumpling. Instinctively she flung her arms around him and burrowed into his armpit. He wrapped his arms around her, the sobs came more freely now and he no longer cared how he sounded or looked. He put his hands in her hair and smelled at the familiar scent of her shampoo.

When his sobs grew softer she led him over to a rattan love seat on the porch and laid his head in her lap.  
‘Are you okay?’ She asked, running her fingers through his soft hair. He lay compliantly against her blue waffle robe. He could smell the scent of her bubble bath, the smell of her make-up and behind it all, the scent of Thai take away.  
‘No, I’m not, I miss you and I’m just, Oh God, I’m so…’  
He pulled his head up to face her, she put her hands on his face.  
‘I’m so….. Hungry!’ He blurted, his stomach growled.

‘Have you been fasting again? Because that worked so well last time!’ She said wryly, affectionately touching the hair at the top that curled slightly.  
He sighed.  
‘Come in.’ She said softly. ‘I ordered Thai beef salad for Heather but she said she is a vegetarian or something but I never listen because I’m not really interested’.  
She pulled him to his feet and grabbed his hand. He hesitated, pulling back.  
She turned to look at him and raised her eyebrows. He looked back at her.  
‘All right, there’s some of that disgusting low calorie vegetable soup in the freezer that you made a while back, you can have that’. She rolled her eyes at him and he let himself be led inside.  
He mentally calculated that a whole bowl of that soup was only about 50 calories, stepping over the door frame.


	2. I'm NOT crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel is still waiting for Rebecca to come back to him, he wants to feel fine, but he can't. Mona and he have started a distant but clear bond. This fic coincides with a visit home to have lunch with his parents.

Nathaniel put on his 'skinny boxers', he liked the way his stomach looked concave and the v cut he was getting from working out with White Josh. It was easy hanging out with White Josh, he could say what was on his mind, he didn't have to explain why he didn't want potatoes with his steak and he could appreciate a well aged single malt, although he did insist on bringing that stinking dog with him. He looked around his apartment, the sun was spilling in on the bed and the empty sheets, Mona was angling to sleep over but he wasn't quite ready to have her in his space. He could still almost see Rebecca sprawled across there, her golden limbs and unruly hair splaying across his Egyptian cotton sheets like an artwork on canvas, then that hungry, plotting smile that made his stomach drop and his boxers grow snug.

But she wasn't there. He imagined Mona would daintily take up so little space in the neat way she curled on her side, dark hair smooth and shiny, no lipstick or eyeliner smudged on the pillow, like Rebecca, she would smell of roses and shampoo in the morning. She would neatly use her grapefruit fork to cut into her breakfast of a half grapefruit and indulge in a little no calorie sweetener and 2% in her coffee. Rebecca's habit was to have one or two donuts which she would bite into like they were trying to escape her, spraying powdered sugar and washing it down with coffee with half and half. The taste of the dough and sweet powder never quite fading throughout the day from her lips.  She smelled of DKNY, fresh, alive, chaotic, while Mona's Chanel was strong, clean and predictable.

Nathaniel shook his head before doing his morning warm up briefly before tackling pushups, dips, lunges and squats, sit-ups and v pulls. His whole body shook and he spent time admiring the way the muscles popped. He dressed after a quick shower, skin care regimen and hair wax, he had time today, he was driving down to see his mother and father, it was a Sunday. He was looking forward to seeing his mom, her kind and reserved face would smile when she saw him, but after the pleasantries exchanged and generic banter over drinks, what would his father find fault with this time?

"Son!" his father boomed as he walked from his car to the front door where his parents were waiting. "Pop!" he said brightly. "I mean, hello father". It was always this way, lulled into being open, before his father's face closed with a slam. Like he wanted to care about Nathaniel, but something was wrong, again. What had he done this time?

All through pre lunch apperitifs with the Samsons ( WASPS from the same sector) his stomach churned with unease. His mother kept smiling at him and laying her soft, cool hands on his and saying how glad she was to see him, before her face closed periodically and she returned to polite pleasantries with Alma Samson, the wife of Brendan, whose law firm on the other side of California was, by his confession 'going gangbusters'. Nathaniel started to think that this lunch was perhaps meant as a benchmarking meeting, showing him that it was possible to fire unproductive personnel, work 80 hour weeks and have a great golf handicap.

Nathaniel chuckled, smiled and gave credit for terrible jokes when expected to, but felt his mind going far away.  They were all seated at lunch, where he was not expected to speak much more than to repeat catch-phrases his father had told him over a lifetime.  "Only people with no work ethic don't have a job" and "God invented capitalism".  He didn't even need to think.  Hi anxiety grew stronger and stronger over the course of the lunch.  He looked down  at his plate, he had eaten his hor's douvres, entree, and now he was ploughing through the main course. Somehow, the stress had made him put away potatoes and butter!   
  
He stood up suddenly.  The table hushed.  His father's face was florid with alcohol but he thought he could see anger rise in it.  His one and only son, embarassing him again, he noticed that his father had simply pushed each course around his plate but had drunk librerally from the whiskey decanter.    
"Are you alright, Nathaniel?' his mother asked in her sweet voice.  Her lipstick was the same colour as the roses on the table, which were a light, frosted pink today, she looked lovely.    
"I, am mother, I am so sorry, will you all excuse me, your story about bonds reminded me of a client I need to call", he was suddenly too hot and he removed his jacket, taking his phone from his pocket before politely making eye contact with the guests before excusing himself again, this time from the room.  
  
"He works hard, that boy, been better since he stopped letting that dumpy Jewish girl, that new lawyer, distract him"  He heard his father bark his words loudly.  He was drunk.  He felt rage flare up in him, a rage he usually stuffed down and turned on himself.  But why should he do that this time. His father was the embarassing one, drinking heavily at lunch and insulting highly educated and beautiful women, HIS woman, well, not anymore.  He felt even hotter, and loosened his tie and undid his top button before legging it down the hall to one of the many powder rooms.    
  
It was cool in the black and white tiled powder room, he looked at his Instagram, Rebecca was wearing lederhosen for something or other she had done last week, she looked adorable, he liked the photo and started to type..."Va va voom fraulein!" before remembering that Mona followed him on instagram and would see anything he wrote.  He deleted it and wrote 'looking good, Fraulein", not much better, and deleted it again.  Then he closed the app and went to his messages, he scrolled back through his history with Rebecca.  He saw a lot of 'running late! just doing my hair!' or more obscene examples that filled him up and took away the sick feeling.    
  
Then he looked at the last one, which said ' got something important to tell you, need to do something I have never done before' and the sick feeling came upon him in force again, he could feel the lobster, chicken Vol Au vents and steak grind with the martini he had drunk and he suddenly felt violently sick with shame, longing and rage.  His long legs got him to the toilet bowl in time to bring up most of what he had eaten with urgent, noisy vomitting.  Flushing away the offending material, he opened up a spare toothbrush, brushed his teeth, washed his face and retied his tie in full windsor.  He found some eye drops in the cabinet and squeezed them in to hide the bloodshot look about them, it was a practised routine, the steps came naturally and easily to him.  He felt better, the empty, shaking feeling reminded him he had burned at least 2,000 calories but had barely ingested 500 now.  He took a deep breath and returned to the lunch. Dessert was being served.  
  
Nathaniel waved away the lemon pie and cream, saying 'I feel sharper when I don't eat so much sugar, I have paperwork to do after this'.   
"Oh Nathaniel, you work too hard!" his mother said sweetly, while his father chimed in with "You go get it son! You can't make up for your mediocrity, but at least you can try achieve something with that lackadaisical team you have" his speech slurred slightly.  Nathaniel started to look down at his plate, but no, he was empty and in control.  He looked up at Brendan and Alma, who looked mortified at the turn of the speech.  His father was the embarassing one.  He remembered telling Rebecca that his relationship with his father consisted of 'him glowering and me cowering' and decided, then, that he would not cower.    
  
As the coffee was being poured, he rose again.  "Up and down like a jack in the box' his father cackled, the ice tinkling in his fourth whiskey.  "At least stay for coffee darling" said his mother, laying her soft hand on his, she smelled of Shalimar and he wanted to bury his face in her shoulder padded shoulder.  "No, thankyou I won't mother, please forgive me'.  "Father, perhaps YOU should have some though" he said flatly.  He watched the beginning of his father's face falling, but turned away before he could be drawn into the magnetism of his eyes and watch the growing rage.  
  
Then, crossing the room, he shook Brendan's hand and kissed Alma politely on the cheek.  "You have so inspired me I am going to re look at some of the cases you covered this year, oh wait, did you say, the Higgins case?  I believe we actually won a larger case relating to real estate through our own Miss Bunch, I believe we can all learn from one another". He shook his hand again, pumping it enthusiastically, like Darry Whitefeather at a Chippawa swap meet.  "We should play golf sometime" he said vaguely.  
  
Then, with the daggers of his father's eyes on him, he left the room, his legs wobbling like mad and his stomach clenching again.  He was going to drive back home and call White Josh, he was going to work out on the shredmaster and drink green juice.  He got into his car and started to drive, not looking back to see if his father was coming out to chew him out.  Halfway along the coast a smell came to him, powerfully urgent, of Rebecca. Rebecca's lips with donut sugar on them.  But then another smell erupted and he pulled over on the narrow shoulder of the road and vomitted again, this time the mushroom vol au vents.  He wiped his mouth with a wet wipe from his glove box and sat breathing the ocean spray for a few minutes before he got back in his car.  He felt tears try and spring forth but to stop them he started chanting and muttering.  Every time he felt the tears he started muttering under his breath again, something from deep inside him.  "Ice cold" he said over and over.  "Ice cold, in control".    
  
  
  
  



End file.
